To Silence His Silver Tongue
by Morestel
Summary: Thor had sworn to himself that he would not do this - whatever his father said, he would not drag Loki back to Asgard in chains. So why now is he fitting the metal over Loki's mouth, trying fiercely to ignore the apprehension in his brother's eyes?


**Author's Note: **I... did not mean to write this. I was thinking about the end of the Avengers and wondering where the heck Thor got the muzzle and shackles anyway, since they're clearly Asgardian, and then... this happened.

Many thanks for reading! :)

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**TO SILENCE HIS SILVER TONGUE**

_Resignation_

There were some things that Thor hoped never to do in his life. To kill in cold blood, to save himself before others… to do what was easy instead of what his heart knew was right.

What he saw before him now was none of these.

He could not have prepared for this—_how_ had it come to this? He had never in all his fears anticipated that one day, he would be obliged to seek out and subdue—by any means necessary—his own wayward brother.

"He must be stopped."

Thor started, glancing to his father striding alongside him, and realised that his worry must have shown on his face. He sighed and set his eyes ahead again. "I know," he said quietly, heavily, wondering in the back of his mind if he could ever really convince himself of it. "I simply cannot believe—"

"Frigga's sight does not lie, and Heimdall has confirmed it." Odin's own features were cold and oddly unreadable. "Your belief is no longer relevant."

The words hurt, and Thor stiffened slightly without looking at his father. Odin let out a tight breath and shook his head.

"I know it sounds harsh to you now," he said, more gently. "But Midgard is threatened, and if you hesitate, there is no small risk that it may be lost." He quickened his pace, and Thor was obliged to lengthen his stride to keep up. "The Tesseract is not to be trifled with. It should never have fallen into the hands of mortals."

"And in the hands of Loki?" Thor asked, rather dreading the answer.

"I do not know. It is possible, even probable, that he has grown in strength since he left us."

Thor grit his teeth, feeling a flash of irritation at his father's choice of words. "He didn't _leave_ us, Father," he disagreed tersely. "He fell. He let _go._ And I know you, too, thought him dead."

"And now that that has been disproven, would you have me rejoice?"

There was a tight edge of warning to Odin's voice that made Thor stop abruptly in the middle of the hallway. He wondered if he dared voice what was in his heart. He decided he did. "Does it mean nothing to you, to know that he is alive?" he asked quietly. "If not cause for celebration, it is at least a lessening of our grief."

With a heavy sigh, Odin closed his eyes briefly and then turned again. "One year ago, I lost a son." There was something in his gaze that Thor was not used to seeing. "Loki may have returned from the shadow of the Void, but I see no evidence that my son has, also."

Thor felt a slow heaviness building in his chest. He did not know what to say to that, and it was a moment before he found any words to speak. "I will find him, Father," he said quickly, his tone low and reassuring, "I swear it, and if there is a chance he is not lost to us—"

"You will do whatever is necessary to return him here," Odin finished sharply. The look of sorrow that had passed so briefly over his face was gone. "Come with me."

He turned before Thor could respond, and so, with painful mingling of regret and determination in his heart, Thor followed.

They walked in silence now. Thor was having a hard time banishing the memory of his mother's face when she had come to them in the throne room, bearing with her the sudden revelation that Loki had been found. Frigga's features had been pale, barely composed, but there had been no hesitation in her voice when she spoke of her vision. How Loki had survived to reappear in the deepest reaches of the Void, however, even she could not say.

When they turned abruptly into the armoury, Thor shook himself from these thoughts in order to give his father a puzzled look. "Where are we going?" He absently waved away one of the Einherjar who approached from the doorway, and the guard backed away again with his hand at his chest. "I need nothing more than Mjolnir, Father, you know that—"

"These are not weapons, what you will take with you," Odin replied shortly.

"What, then?"

But Odin merely shook his head, a gesture that Thor had learned long ago meant _patience_. The All-Father turned, veering toward a side door and unlocking it with a wave of his hand. Thor had never been here before; indeed, the door was set so unobtrusively against the wall that he had hardly noticed it.

It was a small chamber; Thor could cross it in less than seven paces, and did so in his father's wake as Odin went to a small wooden chest set against the wall. There were others like it, some larger, some smaller, resting on the floor around them, but none were open, and Thor suspected that most if not all were locked against curious fingers. He folded his arms as he watched Odin bend over the chest, beginning to feel slightly uneasy—and when Odin turned and Thor saw what was in his hands, the disquiet turned to dark incredulity.

"Father—"

"I know already what you would say," Odin interrupted, and Thor fell silent with a brief tightening of his lips. "You would say such restraints are harsh, and unnecessary—that these, too, you have no need of."

Thor's glance flickered again to the items in his father's hands: the heavy metal cuffs, chain-linked and inscribed with runes, and the steely, intricately-wrought muzzle that even now he feared would fit only too well around Loki's jaw. He looked up. "You would have me bring him back here in chains?" There was an edge of anger in his voice that he did not try to conceal.

"Loki seeks war with the people of Midgard." Odin's voice was flat. "He will not come willingly, and when he does, he must answer for his actions."

"Where did you get these?" Thor asked quietly and almost accusingly. In the back of his mind, a silent fear was flickering, fear that he did not know his father as well as he had thought.

Odin raised his chin. "They were not made for him," he answered softly, as though he knew exactly the thought that had passed though Thor's mind, "but for one like him, a long time ago."

Though he felt a twinge of relief, Thor clenched his teeth. "All the same, turning him into a prisoner is no incentive for him to give up whatever madness he has planned," he retorted forcefully. "If only I can reach him, _speak_ with him, perhaps words alone—"

"Words are the very weapons I fear his using," his father broke in sharply, in a tone that made Thor flinch inwardly. "He will take them and twist them until they suit him best, and until even you are persuaded that his actions are just. That is why I send these with you." He came forward, the muzzle in one hand and the shackles in the other. "They will bind both the magic of his hands and the enchantment of his tongue."

Swallowing hard against a constriction of his throat, Thor started to shake his head. But the look in his father's eyes was stern and unyielding, and after a moment of self-loathing, Thor took the restraints into his hands. The metal was very cold.

Odin held his gaze for several seconds before abruptly turning towards the door. "Make whatever preparations you must, but quickly. I will meet you in the lower hall in half an hour's time."

Thor nodded but said nothing, and waited until his father's steps had faded before glancing down again. In but a few seconds, he had come to a decision, and made a silent vow to himself. He would find his brother, stop him, use force if necessary—but he would not drag him back to Asgard in chains. He would find his brother, and if strength and faith could do it, he would save him.


End file.
